The classic song recorded in 1943 by Bing Crosby, I’ll Be Home for Christmas, was written for soldiers in the Second World War. Recently, I discovered this while listening to a local music station one evening as I decorated my tree.
Learning the song’s history made me consider, as I unwrapped my grandmother’s cherished reindeer, just how much we take for granted. So often, we know little about or even question the origins of what’s been given to us. We simply inherit things like children do hand-me-downs, not knowing where the hole in one of the back pockets came from or what’s beneath the patch on the left knee.
It occurred to me that, often, without much thought, we receive and make things our own: songs, decorations, recipes, values, traditions … It’s not until we really listen, or ask questions, that we fully understand and appreciate how things have come to be.
Along with the origin, though, it’s the significance that matters, the way things become more than words or articles and take on new meanings as memories are made.
The song, for instance, penned like a love letter to a family, a longing for the comforts only Christmas can bring, not only was written for the soldiers, it connected people, reaching far and wide, boosting morale in a time when there was little hope.
Since its release, it has been recorded many times over, playing in the homes of new generations, adopting its own special meanings as memories are made.
Running a soft cloth over my grandmother’s ornament, I’m not sure where the crack in one of the antlers came from; I was a child when she gave it to me and never thought to ask. I wish I had.
The deer, however, still shines as it hangs beneath the doily snowflakes of my evergreen, its little head tilted upwards, as if hoping to catch one of the white stars on its nose. I can picture my grandmother beside me as I gaze upon it.
One day, it will hang on my daughter’s tree. Though I won’t be able to share the details of how or where my grandmother came to have the little reindeer, or the origin of the crack in its antler, I will share my memories of it, and how for me, each Christmas, it is like my grandmother is here with me ... if only in my dreams.
This holiday, amidst the circumstances of the times we are living in, while we continue to be so careful with the things we don’t want to pass on, let us be mindful and considerate of the things we do.
Tara-Lee Lecours lives in Greater Sudbury.
